Safety
by HappyAbby
Summary: After a violent encounter with a patient, House must help Cameron cope.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: A bad day for Cameron turns dramatically worse, and House is guilt-stricken.

Disclaimer: I don't own them (wish I did!)

"Cameron, go draw the guy's blood," House demanded.

"Can't…can't Chase or Foreman do it? I got a weird vibe the last time I was in his room. I don't think he likes me."

"Oh, boo hoo. Somebody doesn't like me. You're not running for head cheerleader, you're trying to save the guy's life. Go."

"I just…"

"Stop the incessant whining and DO IT!" House shouted. Cameron was visibly shaken and hurt. She fumbled with the door and finally was able to yank it open. She exited quickly, her eyes on the floor as she left. House sighed and gripped his leg, trying futilely to rub away the pain. It was shaping up to be that kind of a day.

"Sir, if you just hold still, it'll only take me a minute…" Cameron pleaded.

"I said to get away from me, you little bitch." The patient glowered hatefully at his young doctor.

Cameron's eyes stung, and she quickly blinked back her tears. Everybody just keeps heaping on the abuse, she thought to herself. Well, keep it coming. I can take whatever you want to dish out. I won't let you see me cry.

Suddenly, before she knew what was happening, the patient's fist swung around and connected with the side of her face. The blow sent Cameron hurtling to the ground. She looked up in shock and saw the patient standing over her, his eyes burning with hatred. Cameron instinctively put her hands up to protect her face, but this did nothing to ward off the swift kicks he delivered to her torso. She gasped as the breath left her body. She saw dark spots floating before her eyes, and then nothing. The last sounds she heard were the patient's bare feet slapping on the linoleum as he ran from the room.

"House, it's okay. She's going to be okay. House?" Cuddy gasped and tried to keep up as House hobbled through the hallways at breakneck speed. She was panicked and babbling, but trying to keep up the pretense that she was calm and in control. He ignored her as he raced to Cameron's room.

"House, hold on! I have to warn you, she looks worse than she actually is. She's just…"

"Yeah, just beaten up, a few broken ribs…no big deal." House glared at Cuddy over his shoulder. There were no words that were going to placate him. He rounded the corner and nearly tripped as he came to a stop. He was standing outside of Cameron's hospital room. He put his hand on the doorknob, but he couldn't will his body to move any further. He stood there, frozen, until Cuddy gently touched his shoulder.

"Go to her. You'll see she's okay," Cuddy said softly. House nodded and slowly opened the door. He wasn't prepared for the sight before him.

There was Cameron, his Cameron, broken and bloody in the narrow hospital bed. Her dark, silken hair spread across the white bed linens, contrasting with the pallor of her skin. He didn't think he'd ever seen her so pale, with the exception of the angry red and purple bruising on her cheek, and the trickle of dried blood that had leaked from her nose.

He was taken aback by how young and helpless she looked as she lay there sleeping. The rough, cotton hospital gown was swimming on her thin frame. She looked like a child, even more so than when she wore her babyish, puffy-sleeved shirts that he hated, and his heart flooded with fear and concern.

"Oh, Cameron," he whispered, drawing a hand over his face as his lips quivered. He took a deep breath and pulled himself together, limping around the room until he found a washcloth. He took it over to the sink and dipped it underneath the faucet, soaking it with warm water. He wrung out the cloth and walked to Cameron's bedside.

With gentle strokes, he ran the warm cloth softly over her face, wishing he could remove the nightmare of what happened to her as easily as he wiped away the blood. She shivered as the air hit her damp face and slowly opened her eyes—one perfect, the other painfully swollen. A tear glistened and then fell, rolling it's way down her cheek only to be joined by another. House followed the trail of the tears with the washcloth, wiping them away before they could drip down her chin and onto her neck.

Cameron smiled weakly, lopsidedly, her bruised cheek limiting the motion of her lips. She stretched out a hand, grasping for human contact. She ached to be touched gently, to be soothed. House looked at the thin, pitiful little hand reaching toward him. He hesitated for a moment, and then wrapped his fingers around hers. Her hand was freezing, and he rubbed it briskly to try to warm it. He then pulled her blanket up over her shoulders, tucking it softly underneath her chin. Her crooked smile widened slightly, filled with gratitude.

"Thanks," she whispered hoarsely. His mouth smiled back at her, but the expression in his eyes was haunted, full of pain.

"Anything…" his voice caught, and he swallowed and tried again. "Anything for you."

Chase and Foreman stood outside of Cameron's room. They had been prepared to enter and visit with their teammate, bearing offerings from the hospital gift shop. Chase held a stuffed animal (cheesy, but she would appreciate it) and Foreman held a small bouquet of roses. But as they looked through the window and saw Cameron's hand in House's, the intensity of his gaze as he kept watch over her, they silently walked away from the room. Though no words were exchanged between them, each knew what the other was thinking—that it would be best to save their visit until later.


	2. Chapter 2

Summary: Thank you so much for all of your reviews! SAL, you knew exactly where I was headed with this! House and Cameron make a decision…

House opened the door to Cameron's room and noticed that despite the bright, late afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows, the atmosphere was rather dark. The TV droned with the noises of a stupid daytime talk show, but Cameron was paying no attention. She was lying on her side, facing away from the door, and she hadn't even turned her head when he entered. House gazed at the piteous little lump lying in the bed before approaching.

"Uh oh. Someone's not speaking to me."

"I'm speaking to you," she responded flatly, still not turning to face him.

"You're becoming pretty popular with the nurses. They can't stop talking about you."

Cameron remained silent.

"They say you can be discharged today, but not until you eat at least one good meal. And you have to keep it down, too…that's the tricky part."

"I'm eating," Cameron protested. House eyed her untouched tray of cafeteria food. He poked at the cold mashed potatoes, lifting a large forkful off of the plate and dangling it near Cameron's mouth.

"Prove it."

"House, stop it. I ate crackers and drank some juice. I just don't want the dinner they brought me. It's disgusting."

"I'll concede your point…it is pretty disgusting. But growing girls need their vitamins, and crackers and juice aren't going to do it. So eat up." He advanced the fork again, swirling it over her head and making airplane noises. That at least got a weak, fleeting smile to pass over her bruised lips.

"Stop treating me like a baby."

"Stop acting like one. Refusing to eat your food because it's "yucky" is pretty standard kindergarten behavior." The smile left Cameron's face and she heaved a gusty sigh. House returned the fork to its spot on the tray.

"So if I get you something else, something you like…you'll eat it?" he asked, the trademark glimmer in his eye indicating that he had an idea.

"Sure," she replied softly. She was too exhausted to argue.

"Okay then," House nodded, and left her room. Cameron rolled over and pulled her blanket over her head. She just wanted to disappear for a while.

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Cameron was sleeping when she heard someone crash through her door. She knew that the nurses wouldn't make that much noise. She only knew one person who would be so inconsiderate of a sleeping patient, so she wasn't surprised when she opened her eyes to House standing over her. He held a Styrofoam container in one hand, his cane in the other.

"Rise and shine. Time to eat," he said, holding the container out to her.

"Not right now. I just woke up," Cameron responded groggily, blinking as he flipped on a light.

"Now. I got you something I know you like," he replied as he opened the lid to the container. The pungent smell of Italian food wafted toward Cameron, and she took a look to see what he was offering her.

"Ravioli?"

"Yeah. You ordered it when we went to Café Spellato, and you seemed to like it, so I figured…"

"You remembered what I ordered?" Cameron asked, touched and surprised at the kind gesture.

"Yeah. Photographic memory. It's one of my many gifts," he said, turning his head slightly to avoid the admiration lighting up her eyes. "Eat up."

"House, I appreciate it, but I…"

"But you don't want to eat, right? Because once you eat, they'll send you home, and you don't want to go home." Cameron opened her mouth to protest, but she somehow couldn't come up with a good retort. His insight was baffling. She wondered if she was that transparent, or if it was just his innate gift of reading people that gave her away. She laid her head back on her pillow, defeated.

"What's going on? Don't you want your own bed? Real clothes, instead of lying here bare-assed in a hospital gown?" Cameron picked at a loose thread dangling on the corner of her blanket. After a moment of hesitation, she spoke slowly.

"I…I'm going to need help when I go home. I can barely lift my arms over my head because of the ribs. I'll barely be able to dress, shower, do anything. I'm not bad off enough to need a home health care nurse, but the doctor suggested I have someone stay with me for a few days while I recuperate."

"So, call your parents. Call a friend. Sweet girl like you…people will be knocking each other over to baby-sit." Cameron rolled her eyes, slightly irritated that she was being referred to as a child once again.

"My parents are in Europe while my dad's on sabbatical. I don't want to call them anyway. I'll have to hear the same old, tired crap they always give me—'your job's too dangerous, get into another field, why not research or teaching...'"

"So a friend, then," House offered. Cameron's eyes shifted and she stared out the window as she responded.

"I don't…I don't really have any friends." Her sadness was palpable, and it cut House to the core.

"I don't believe that," he said.

"The job doesn't leave much time for socializing. I'm a bad friend anyway. Friends from college and med school have tried to keep in touch. They'll e-mail or call occasionally. But I never have time to respond, and after a while…" she trailed off.

"They stop trying," he finished for her.

"Yup," she said simply. Her eyes glistened, and House panicked slightly, wanting to stave off the tears before they started rolling. He started making suggestions.

"Chase?"

"No. Too weird. You know we slept…"

"Yeah, I remember." He cut her off quickly before her words dredged up the unpleasant mental image of the two of them together, naked and sweaty. "What about Foreman?"

"He's getting ready to head out of town. Visiting his parents."

"Oh yeah," House said softly as he remembered signing Foreman's vacation request in a rare moment of generosity. He took a deep breath and pushed it out, a sigh that seemed to come from the tips of his toes. He braced himself, as he knew what he had to do.

"My place is on the first story. No stairs, easy to navigate. Plenty of space. You…you're welcome to stay with me for a few days. If you want. You don't have to."

"Thanks," she whispered tearfully. She wiped her eyes and smiled. "I accept the offer."

"Glad to hear it," he said gruffly, his mind reeling from what had just transpired. "So, how about some food?"

"Sure," she submitted, and reached for the container of ravioli he pushed toward her.

"Do you want the airplane noises again? Or do you think you can use the big girl fork all by yourself?"

Cameron glared at him and took a ravenous bite of her ravioli. Her glower turned into a giggle as House stole a piece with his fingers and popped the ravioli into his mouth.

"So we're roomies for a few days. Should be fun…kind of like camp," he said with a wink. She smiled and nodded around a mouthful of food. The lightness of the moment was false…both wondered uneasily if the decision they had just made was a smart one.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Warning to those with weak stomachs—some vomiting takes place in this chapter. Also, I took some liberties with House's place…I think it's actually just a one-bedroom, since Wilson slept on the couch when he stayed over. But for my intents and purposes, House has a guestroom (Cameron can't move right into his bed…yet!) Finally, thanks so much for your reviews, and for encouraging me to keep the updates coming!

"I think I'm all settled in," Cameron said with satisfaction, glancing at the collection of luggage that had been gathered in House's spare bedroom.

"Good," he said, nodding at the pile.

"Yeah, great," Wilson huffed as he wiped the sweat from his brow. "Glad I was around to do your physical labor." House shot Wilson a hurt puppy-dog look.

"You expected us to drag these bags over here? We're in pain," House whined. Wilson shook his head, unable to muster much sympathy for the pair. He hoped they knew what they were getting themselves into, but he was certain that Cameron's stay at House's was going to be a train wreck of mass proportions.

"Well, if you're settled, I'm going to head out."

"Thanks, Wilson," Cameron said sincerely. "I really do appreciate it."

"Good luck," he replied with a smile as he left.

"So," Cameron began, looking around at her boss's bachelor pad.

"Food's in the kitchen, bathroom's around the corner, TV's in the living room. Help yourself to whatever," House fired off and limped away in the direction of his bedroom. His offer to help her didn't extend to making small talk and playing host. Cameron nodded and walked stiffly and slowly towards the guest room. House felt a twinge of guilt—she was obviously in pain. Something he knew way too much about.

"Hey, Cameron?"

"Yeah?"

"Let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks," she whispered. "I will." She started to walk back to the guestroom, but turned around to face him as she heard the familiar rattle of his bottle of Vicodin.

"Care to join me for a cocktail?" he asked, tossing the bottle to her. She caught it and tossed it back to him.

"Thanks, but I brought my own," she replied, pulling her own untouched container of prescription painkillers from her pocket. She wasn't planning on partaking unless her pain was unbearable, and right now it was just a dull, nagging ache.

"Good," he smirked as he popped the top and tossed back two pills. "Because I wasn't planning to share anyway."

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Cameron carefully pulled off her tee shirt and jeans, trying desperately not to make any sudden or jarring movements. She rummaged through her bags to find a pair of comfortable pajamas and slipped them on carefully. Despite her slow, tedious movements, her broken ribs screamed in protest. She winced and stretched out on the bed, trying to ride out the waves of pain that were wracking her body.

After twenty minutes, when the pain hadn't subsided, Cameron slowly swung her legs over the side of the bed and pulled her discarded pair of jeans off the floor. She slid her hand into the pocket and retrieved the Vicodin that had been prescribed for her. She silently chastised herself for this moment of weakness, and then wrestled the childproof lid open and popped a couple in her mouth, dry-swallowing them the way she had seen House do many a time. She pulled a book from her neat stack on the nightstand and started to read.

At page 52, a sudden wave of nausea washed over Cameron. "Oh, God," she whispered to herself and made her way to the bathroom as quickly as possible. She just barely made it through the door before vomiting violently into the toilet. The sound of gagging and retching drew House from his bedroom. He felt pity rush over him at the sight of Cameron's pale hands clutching the toilet bowl, her knuckles whitening as she braced herself for another bout. He knew right then that she had dipped into her stash of painkillers. Nausea was an unfortunate side effect.

"Too many tequila shots, Senorita?" he joked, trying to lighten the mood. She shook her head and pitched forward, starting to heave again. House gathered her hair in his hands, winding her tresses into a loose ponytail. He gently held her hair back as she emptied her stomach. When she was finished, she slumped down on the bathroom floor, breathing heavily. House let her hair fall from his hands and filled a cup with cool tap water.

"Feeling better?" he asked as he handed the cup to her.

"I guess," she rasped. "I should have known that would happen. I took Vicodin when I had my wisdom teeth out in college, and it made me puke then, too."

"Amateur," he snorted. "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up." He helped Cameron to her feet, and they made their way together back to her room. She stood awkwardly before him as he surveyed her soiled tank top.

"The shirt's gotta go, but I think the pants are okay," he recommended. Cameron nodded towards a duffel bag.

"I've got another shirt in there," she said. "Do you mind…"

"I've got it," he replied as he pulled a delicate, spaghetti-strapped wisp of fabric from her bag. "This thing is the size of a postage stamp," he remarked, holding it up by the straps. "Turn around."

Cameron turned away from him. She blushed as she felt him gently lift her shirt from her body. He slid the top over her head, and she caught it as it fell in front of her.

"Can you raise your arms?" he asked, his voice sounding slightly strained. The sight of her lovely, bare back was a bit overwhelming. Cameron obliged him by gingerly raising her arms as high as she could without causing herself too much pain.

House brought the clean top over her head. His fingers grazed her bare sides as he gently smoothed the shirt down over her body. He smirked as her silky skin suddenly became spotted with goosebumps. She turned to face him, her tiny scrap of a tank top letting a glimpse of her midriff peak through.

"Once again, thanks. I'm sorry if I woke you up. I'll leave the pill popping to the pros from now on," she said with a smile. "House?" she prompted when he didn't immediately respond.

House shook himself from his reverie and forced his eyes back to her face. They had naughtily roamed downward. The fabric of her top was nearly transparent. She quickly folded her arms over her breasts and shot him a look of disapproval.

"Get some sleep," he said softly. He gently brushed a finger over her cheek before leaving. Cameron stared after him and watched him take a seat on his piano bench. She brought her hand to her cheek, still dazed and tingling from his touch.

"You too," she murmered. She tucked herself into bed and was soon lulled to sleep by a soft, sweet melody as House's hands danced over the keys of his piano.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: I don't own House or the lyrics below. Thank you so much to everyone for the reviews, and I hope you enjoy this latest chapter!

When your mind is a mess, so is mine

I can't sleep cause it hurts when I think

My thoughts aren't at peace with the plans that we make,

Chances we take, they're not yours and not mine,

There's waves that can break.

All the words that we say and the words that we mean,

Words can fall short, can't see the unseen

Cause the world is awake for somebody's sake,

Now please close your eyes, won't you please get some sleep.

--"No Other Way", Jack Johnson

A sweet, fragrant cloud of steam billowed from the bathroom as Cameron emerged, wearing her robe. The smell of fruity, floral, girly body wash wafted throughout the townhouse, and House wrinkled his nose as the scent reached him.

"You enjoy smelling like a bowl of Froot Loops?" he asked.

"It's black raspberry and vanilla," she protested, "and it smells good." House shrugged. He was in no way, shape, or form going to admit to her that he agreed. It did smell good. Intoxicatingly good, as a matter of fact.

"You don't have to come to the hospital if you don't want. I don't expect you back at work for the rest of the week. You can have the place to yourself while I'm gone."

"I know," Cameron replied, "but I don't think it'll be too much of a strain to work on charting. Besides, I want to say hello to the guys."

"Oh, so they're 'the guys' to you? I refer to them as 'the idiot squad.' You're lumped into that category too, you know." Cameron smirked at him and shook her head.

"I'll be ready in just a second." She sauntered into the guest bedroom and shut the door behind her.

House fidgeted impatiently as the minutes ticked by. He was already running late, but she was going to make him even later. "Cameron?" he called, the irritation evident in his tone.

"Um, House?" came the tentative reply. "Can I get your help with something?" He closed his eyes and braced himself…he had no idea what her request would be, and it threw him for a loop.

"What is it?"

"I…I can't get my bra hooked."

"Oh, for God's sake," he sighed.

"I'm sorry!" she snapped. "I'm too sore…my arms won't…I can't get them around my back," she groaned as she painfully made one last attempt to fasten the garment. He opened the door and she backed up toward him.

"See, it just hooks in the back," she began, lifting her shirt to show him what needed to be done.

"I think I know how a bra works," he retorted. "Believe it or not, I've seen one or two in my lifetime." He grabbed the ends of the lacy undergarment and hooked them together with ease.

"Wow," Cameron exclaimed. "I'm impressed…that was pretty effortless."

"I'm even better at taking them off than putting them on," House said, arching his brows. "Especially when I use my teeth." Cameron laughed and shook her head.

"Let's go," House urged, ushering her towards the door.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," she sassed. They made their way to his car together.

The short ride to the hospital was fairly silent, but comfortable. House's iPod was hooked up to the car radio through the cigarette lighter, and they enjoyed the eclectic playlist as they rode. By the time the Rolling Stones were singing "Paint It Black", they were pulling into the parking lot. House eased the car into a parking spot and turned off the ignition. He clicked his iPod to silence it and glanced over at Cameron.

Something was wrong. Cameron was clenching and unclenching her fingers, then wiping her sweaty palms on her pants. She looked distressed. Her smile of five minutes ago had vanished. Her chest heaved as her breathing became more rapid.

"I feel dizzy," she gasped as House took her slender wrist in his hand. Her pulse was racing.

"Cameron, listen to me. You're having a panic attack. Look at me," House commanded. Cameron turned to him, her eyes wide and terrified. A cold trickle of sweat dripped down the small of her back.

"I need you to take a deep breath and hold it for three seconds," House ordered, his voice firm. Cameron obeyed, sucking in a mouthful of air.

"Now exhale slowly." Cameron released the air, feeling the incredible tension alleviate slightly as she did so. House had her repeat the slow, steady rhythm several times. Inhale, hold, exhale. Inhale, hold, exhale. Finally, her panic had subsided enough to allow her to speak.

"Guess I wasn't ready to come back to work after all," Cameron whispered. She was surprised at how deeply affected she still was by the attack. She thought the hospital had toughened her—she had dealt with the heartbreak of death, distraught family members, devastated patients, constant risk of infection, and somehow she had thrived. But at the thought of entering the building, the brutality and the sheer hatred in the eyes of her attacker had all come flooding back.

"Not today. But you will be," House replied gently. "I'll take you back to my place."

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Cameron peeked up from her book as she heard the creak of House's front door opening as he returned from his shift.

"I'm home," he called from the doorway, "and I come bearing gifts."

Cameron jumped up and met him at the door. He was attempting to juggle a pizza box, a bag of groceries, and his cane. Cameron took the bag from him. The clank of glass and the weight of the bag told her that House had made a beer run. She hoisted the bag onto the counter as he set the pizza down.

"Pizza and beer, huh?" Cameron asked playfully.

"Welcome to bachelor living. Get a couple of plates and we'll eat in front of the TV." Cameron obliged, pulling down dishes and grabbing paper towels to use as napkins. House watched, inwardly marveling at her ease in his kitchen. It felt good, he realized, having her there, coming home to her. It felt natural, and…right. And the fact that it all seemed so comfortable was what made House uncomfortable. He didn't want his loneliness to force him into making an irrational decision—such as tearing his coworker's clothes off and jumping her right there in the kitchen, for instance.

House shook himself from his thoughts and made his way to the couch, flipping on the TV. Cameron followed with two plates full of pizza and set them on the coffee table. She returned to the kitchen to retrieve the beer.

"I got some girly stuff for you, in case you can't handle the real thing," he called after her. She bypassed the "girly stuff"—tropical fruit flavored wine coolers—and settled on a good old-fashioned beer. She handed him his bottle and popped the top on her own, taking a long, cool sip.

House's previous flash of discomfort returned to nag at him again. Sharing beer and pizza with Cameron, sitting side by side on the couch—was this a glimpse of what life could be like? Was this kind of simple happiness within his reach? House chided himself inwardly for imagining this situation as more than it was. He had simply offered his colleague—his much younger, recently injured colleague—a place to stay while she recuperated. It was not romantic and by no means permanent, so why was he allowing his mind to wander down futile paths?

"Hey, House?" Cameron interrupted his convoluted train of thought. He was grateful for the distraction. "What do you want to watch?" He picked up the remote and started flipping through channels, pausing when something looked good, changing the station again when the commercials started. Surprisingly, Cameron didn't complain about the frenetic channel surfing. House figured that she was merely being cooperative, but Cameron was actually happy just sharing the couch with him. They ate slice after slice of pizza, and drank the entire six-pack House had purchased. They had split it right down the middle, three beers apiece. House was largely unaffected, just a bit more relaxed, but Cameron was feeling rather tipsy.

"Uh, I'm so stuffed!" Cameron exclaimed, pushing her plate away. "I probably just gained ten pounds."

"Well, maybe you'll get lucky and the weight will go to your breasts," he teased.

Cameron glared and playfully smacked him on the arm. She collected their plates and took them into the kitchen. House could tell that she was feeling the effects of the alcohol by the looseness of her stride, the way she clunked the plates onto the counter a bit too hard, and the pretty flush in her cheeks as she turned around and walked back toward him. She flopped on the couch (a bit closer to him, perhaps?) and turned her attention back to the TV after sneaking a quick glance at House out of the corner of her eye.

His long legs were stretched out, one foot crossed over the other, on the coffee table. Cameron tucked hers primly underneath her on the couch. Suddenly, even though her eyes were staring straight ahead at the TV screen, she felt the heat of his stare against the side of her face.

"What?" she asked, unnerved.

"Those socks," he stated simply, "are the stupidest-looking socks I've ever seen." He pinched her toe and hoisted her foot a few inches off of the couch to get a better look.

"They're comfortable," Cameron protested in defense, stifling a laugh and pulling her foot away. She had to agree—her bright pink-and-purple, extra-fuzzy socks weren't exactly sexy.

"It looks like you skinned two stuffed animals and strapped them to your feet," House continued, and Cameron had to laugh out loud.

"Hey, be nice. They keep my feet warm, and I like them. That's all that matters."

House smiled. He enjoyed her laugh, he realized. She didn't laugh out loud often enough. He was suddenly overwhelmed by an urge to reach out to her, to touch her. He wouldn't allow himself to do that, though. But he would allow himself to slide his hand just a fraction of an inch across the couch cushion, and should it happen to brush against hers, maybe that was okay…

Cameron could feel the heat radiating from his hand as it slipped ever closer to hers. Both felt a jolt as their fingers met and lingered for a long moment. Cameron turned towards House, leaning closer to him, the longing in her eyes unmistakable. And it was too much.

"I think I'm going to call it a night," he said abruptly, rising from the couch and grabbing his cane. "Good night, Cameron," he said a bit more gently, and he disappeared into his bedroom, leaving her dazed on the couch. She sighed and switched off the TV, heading off into her own room.

Cameron grabbed yet another book off of her pile on the nightstand and flipped the pages with shaking hands. Twenty minutes later, she still couldn't settle into slumber. Her nerves were twanging; tension was coursing through her body. She got up from the bed and slipped quietly out of her room, her footsteps muffled by her ridiculously fuzzy socks. She silently tiptoed her way across the wood floors and found herself standing outside of House's bedroom door.

"House?" she whispered, her voice nearly inaudible. She raised her hand gingerly, but didn't have the courage to follow through and actually knock. She released a nearly silent sigh and softly laid her forehead against the solid wood of his door. After a second, she turned around the retraced her steps until she slid back underneath the covers of her bed.

House stared at his bedroom ceiling, still wide awake. It had taken every ounce of strength he could summon to refrain from opening the door. You made the right decision, he told himself several times over. Hours later and still unable to sleep, House allowed himself to consider a difficult question—if shutting Cameron out was so obviously the right decision, why was he lying awake, tormented and miserable at three in the morning?


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: I appreciate your reviews so much, and I definitely need feedback on this chapter. I don't know…it kind of feels like a good place to stop, but I don't know if I'm ready to abandon this story! Let me know what you think. Thanks so much!

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, never have. Much to my dismay.

House blinked as he stepped outside into the bright morning sunshine. He was actually on course to be on time for work for once. He had heard the water running in the bathroom as he ate his breakfast, and leaving early allowed him to avoid seeing his new roommate fresh from the shower, hair wet and skin steaming…just thinking about her was overwhelming. He had opened the door to his car and was about to slide into the driver's seat when he heard a door slam. Cameron had emerged from the house and was standing on his front steps.

"Hold up! I'm coming with you," she exclaimed and jogged to meet him at his car.

"You sure?" he asked, surprised that she would want to attempt another trip to the hospital after yesterday's panic attack.

"No, but I need to try," she insisted, and pulled the car door open. House hoped that she knew what she was getting herself into as they drove off.

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

With steady breaths and a look of sheer determination, Cameron entered the hospital with no problems. Having House by her side probably helped, she admitted to herself. They rode the elevator silently and entered the office to a warm welcome from Chase and Foreman.

"Good to have you back!" they said, nearly in unison, as the two enveloped her in a group hug. House rolled his eyes at the warm family moment.

"Okay, enough. Three-ways are hotter with two girls, anyway."

"You're disgusting," Cameron exclaimed, shooting him a glare.

"You're right. Now start charting, or whatever it is you want to do here today. Chase, Foreman, come with me," he commanded, leaving the office to check on the latest patient. Cameron shot the guys a sympathetic look as they trailed behind their leader.

"How have you been putting up with him?" Foreman paused to ask on his way out.

"It really hasn't been too bad," Cameron mused. The dreamy, far-away look in her eyes didn't escape Chase and Foreman's attention. They exchanged a meaningful look, each wondering what it was about House that had their sweet, hopeful colleague so entirely smitten.

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"So is she driving you crazy?" Wilson asked as he and House passed a bag of chips back and forth. Their late-morning snack, a sort of pre-lunch break, had become something of a tradition.

"Yes," House replied. He didn't meet Wilson's eyes as he handed him the chips.

"Care to elaborate? What, is she hogging the bathroom?" Wilson popped a couple of chips in his mouth and crunched thoughtfully.

"No."

"Stealing the remote? Reorganizing your sock drawer?"

"No, nothing like that," House answered quietly.

"Then what? What exactly is she doing that's driving you…oh. OH!" A smile of recognition spread across Wilson's face as he wiped crumbs from his fingertips. House winced and pleaded with Wilson with his eyes to control himself.

"So, this is more like a "gorgeous woman in the next bedroom, but you can't touch her" type of driving you crazy," he deduced.

"Something like that, yeah," House admitted, too tired to go the denial route.

"Well, why can't you?"

"Why can't I what?"

"Why can't you touch her? She's single, you're single, you're both intelligent, attractive people…I know I would have made a move by now," Wilson chided.

"Oh, I think we all know that," House retorted, his words dripping with disdain. "The single part isn't even a factor for you."

Wilson shrugged, unable to answer around his mouthful of chips. Plus, he had to admit that House was correct…his track record with faithfulness left a lot to be desired. Wilson swallowed his food and attempted to offer his friend some advice.

"Honestly, I don't understand why you're torturing yourself. She's a beautiful woman, who happens to also be brilliant and crazy about you. And you can't deny that you feel something for her, too. It may not be perfect, it might make things awkward at work, it may end badly…so what? You'll never know if you never act on it, and it may turn out to be something wonderful! If it was me, I would take that chance!" Wilson became more and more agitated as he spoke, his voice nearly a shout by the end. It frustrated him to no end to see his friend choose misery time and time again. House simply stared, silent and unmoving. Wilson took advantage of his silence and continued, this time in a gentler tone.

"House, pushing her away, not telling her how you feel…that's a safe decision. You don't like to go the safe route. Safety is overrated. If it was me…" Wilson wanted to press on, but House interrupted.

"Well, maybe she should stay with you then, because I've about reached my limit." The sound of the door being pulled open and the unmistakable clack of high heels caused their heads to spin around and their mouths to snap shut. Cameron was entering the office, and she held two bags in her hands. House cringed, hoping desperately that she hadn't overheard the conversation.

"I got you a sandwich," she said softly. "A reuben, no pickles. Here," she tossed the bag to him and took her own lunch into the hallway. Wilson slipped out of the office after her, shooting House a look, clearly urging him to talk to her.

House stared at Cameron through the glass windows of the office as she slumped down on the couch. She nibbled at the crust of her sandwich and then stuffed it back into the bag. She picked up an apple, took one bite, and stuffed it in the bag as well. She tossed the bag into the nearest garbage can, and reentered the office.

"Hey, House, I'm feeling kind of worn out. I'm going to get Foreman to give me a ride back to your place, if you don't mind."

"I can drive you," House offered, but Cameron shook her head.

"No, it's fine. I'll see you when you get home, okay?"

House nodded, encouraged by her light and breezy tone, discouraged by her refusal of his offer of a ride. It was a complete toss-up, he decided. Maybe she had overheard, maybe she hadn't. For once, he was going to hope for the best. He unwrapped the sandwich and stared at it for a moment. He picked it up and promptly set it back down, his appetite gone. He sighed and tried to shake his thoughts of her, picking up a file a reading over the latest patient's history.

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The instant House opened his door after returning from work, his heart sank. The first thing he saw was a packed bag placed neatly in the hallway. He knew it instantly. She was leaving.

He tossed his keys onto the kitchen counter, and the jangling thud brought her from the guest bedroom. She shyly brought her eyes to his, and the intensity of his stare forced her to look away.

"You're home," she said quietly, simply. He nodded, and then cleared his throat.

"So what's going on?" he asked, taking a step closer to her. She backed away, still unable to look at him.

"It's time I got out of your hair. Thanks for everything, really. I appreciate it." She raised her eyes to his finally, offering him a small smile. He refused to smile back, and hers faded. A faint beeping sound came suddenly from outside to cut the silence.

"That's my taxi, so I'm going to go. I really can't thank you enough," she politely offered again and hoisted a duffle bag to her shoulder.

"Why a taxi? I can drive you home," House asked, taking another step toward her, attempting to lessen the space between them.

"No, I think it's best this way. Wouldn't want you to have to spend anymore time with me than you already have," she said, finally dropping the bravado and letting her hurt seep into her voice.

"You heard. When I was talking to Wilson." It wasn't a question, but a statement of fact.

"Yeah."

"I think you've got the wrong idea." House's expression was flat, but his eyes implored her to stop for a minute and listen.

"I heard you telling Wilson to take me in, because you can't stand having me around," Cameron's voice wavered.

"No, it's…" House fumbled with the words. "I told Wilson you were driving me crazy…"

"Oh, and that's supposed to make me feel better?" she cried, her eyes glistening.

"Don't you understand?" he snapped. "There's more than one way to drive a man crazy. I wasn't crazy because you were here, I was crazy because…" his voice trailed off, and he finished quietly. "I was crazy because I was actually feeling happy for the first time in God knows how long, and I didn't know what to do. I was crazy because I knew you were eventually going to leave." Understanding washed over her face, along with a few tears. The cab driver honked the horn again. Cameron wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and looked up at House.

"I've got to go," she whispered, keeping her eyes locked with his. House nodded and stepped aside, giving her room to pass him and walk out of the door. Cameron walked quickly, their shoulders brushing as she passed. She reached out to turn the doorknob. She stopped abruptly when she felt his hand on her arm, pulling her back.

"Stay," he said. One short, simple word, unaccented by tears or pleading. Cameron raised herself up on her tiptoes. House's eyes closed as she softly kissed his cheek. She then turned the doorknob and walked out.

The twist of the knob, the slam of the door behind her…the sounds ripped through House as he realized that she was gone. He clutched his cane and limped into his living room to take a seat on his couch. He put his head in his hands and exhaled loudly, hoping as he did to rid himself of her. Of her haunting eyes that didn't know whether to be blue or gray. Of her delicate scent, a combination of her girly bath products and something that was uniquely her. Of her stupid, fuzzy socks and her teeny-tiny pajamas. Of her sweetness and light and humor...

And then the door slammed, interrupting his thoughts. He raised his head from his hands and looked up to see Cameron, walking through his doorway and back into his home.

She moved toward him, smiling through her tears, dropping her duffle bag onto the floor as she approached. She stood in front of him, and he gazed up at her from his seat on the couch, his eyes full of questions.

"I had to pay the cab driver," she explained softly. "I felt bad, making him come out here and then telling him to leave. Had to give him a little something for his trouble."

House nodded and silently reached for her. His hands slipped around Cameron's waist, and he gently pulled her toward him. He embraced her, resting his head against her body as her fingers danced through his hair. He felt the sweet press of her lips on the top of his head.

House looked up into her beautiful eyes, still unsure of their precise color. Blue-gray? Gray-blue? Their one certainty, the one thing he was sure of, was that they were overflowing with love and acceptance. He could figure their color out later.

House leaned up towards her, and she in turn leaned downward into him. Their lips met, softly, slowly, completely. Cameron couldn't help but be surprised by the gentleness of their kiss. She always thought that if this were ever to happen for them, it would be a tangled, heaving mesh of mouths and tongues, coming together out of unrelenting tension and sheer need. Their kiss deepened slightly, and Cameron moved to his lap, holding him tighter as one of his hands reached up to cup her cheek, the other sweetly stroking her hair. She smiled slightly against his mouth and felt his lips following her lead, smiling as well.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: I decided that I couldn't abandon this story now…not without some House/Cameron lovin'! ;) That said, there is a love scene in this chapter, and I tried my best to write it without being too explicit. I think it's done delicately enough to keep it from bumping up to an M rating. Many, many thanks for all the kind reviews. You guys are the best!

This is happening. Oh God, this is really happening. Can this be happening? This feels amazing! This feels…right.

Those were the thoughts racing through each of their minds as they kissed. House slid Cameron from his lap and laid her gently on the couch, her head propped against the armrest. He was on top of her, exploring her mouth with his tongue, exploring her body with his hands. His fingers trailed down the smooth skin of her shoulders, ventured briefly underneath her shirt, then slipped back up to entwine into her dark, flowing hair. They were making out like a pair of lovesick teenagers, lost in each other.

They finally broke for air, their lips separating, but foreheads still pressed together. As their heavy breathing began to slow, House cupped her chin in his hand and tipped her face up so that she was looking directly at him.

"I don't…want to be…presumptuous…" House panted, "but do you want…"

"Bedroom?" Cameron completed for him, equally out of breath. House nodded.

"You read my mind," he said, and offered her his hand, pulling her from the couch. Hand in hand, they made their way to their destination.

The bed quickly became a tangled mess as they fumbled with blankets, sheets, and clothing. Cameron yanked House's tee shirt over his head, pressing kisses into his bare chest as she tossed it to the floor. House was a couple of steps ahead of her, having already removed her jeans and shirt. He hooked his fingers into the elastic waistband of her panties, slipping them slowly down her legs, tossing them to the floor to join the rest of the pile.

Their lips met once more, and they moaned against each other's mouths as their bodies joined. Gently yet fervently, tenderly yet passionately, they gave in to each other, to the desire that House had to confess had been growing since Cameron first joined his staff.

When it was over they collapsed into each other's arms, hearts thumping and skin glowing with perspiration. They clung together, arms wrapped tightly around one another, neither one wanting to break the embrace. It was Cameron who pulled away first. She rolled over onto her back, her dark hair fanned out against the pillow. House turned onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow to get a better look at her. Cameron smiled as she met his eyes.

"That was…" she started, her bliss clearly showing on her face.

"Yeah," House sighed, pulling her back to him, kissing her cheek. Cameron murmured in contented agreement and laid her head on his chest. Now out of the direct line of his piercing gaze, she felt brave enough to venture a question.

"So, how do you…feel? About this?" House remained silent, and Cameron wasn't surprised. House wasn't prepared or inclined to discuss feelings, and luckily he was saved by a sudden rumbling sound coming from Cameron's tummy.

"I think your stomach just told me how you feel. Hungry?" he asked, the hopeful look in his eyes discouraging her from pressing for an answer. She sighed inwardly and dropped her question, allowing the discussion to turn to food.

"Yup. Starving."

"C'mon, pretty girl," he said, grabbing her hand, grateful that she was allowing him to distract her. "Let's fix something to eat."

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"Mmmm, frozen macaroni and cheese. More bachelor food," Cameron said, digging her fork into the bright orange goo. The tinfoil pan of macaroni was perched precariously between them as they sat on the couch in front of the TV. They hadn't even bothered with plates, preferring to take turns stabbing the noodles with their forks and eating right out of the pan.

"Get used to it," House replied, surprising himself as he did. Telling her that she needed to get used to his heat-and-serve style of cuisine was implying that he planned on having her around for many more meals. Was that what he wanted? He wasn't completely certain. All he knew was that eating side-by-side on the couch in front of the TV was becoming their "thing", and he was enjoying it.

House dipped up another bite of macaroni and chewed thoughtfully, casting a sideways glance at his dinner partner. Cameron had thrown on a baggy hooded sweatshirt and plaid pajama pants, and she looked absolutely adorable. She smiled at him, a rare, wide smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes.

"This is fun," she said, her voice warm and genuine. "I'm glad I didn't leave." House nodded in agreement. "And I'm glad you didn't want me to leave," she offered, giving his hand a squeeze before taking another bite. With her gaze focused on House, her fork missed her mouth completely. She laughed as the cheesy pasta tumbled down and adhered itself to the front of her sweatshirt.

"I'll get that," House offered generously and brought his head to her chest, slurping the macaroni off of the front of her shirt. She giggled and let her hands trail lazily through his hair. When he sat upright, she tried again to start a deeper conversation.

"Seriously, House…what are you thinking? About this situation. About us. I mean…" her voice lowered, "we just slept together. This might make things weird at work. This might make things weird…period. What…what if…" she stopped babbling, at a sudden loss for words as she noticed House staring intensely into her eyes.

"Cameron," he said softly, firmly. He leaned towards her, and she closed her eyes and leaned into him in anticipation of a kiss.

Instead, he reached behind her and pulled the hood of her sweatshirt over her head, tugging on the drawstrings to pull it tightly shut. Cameron sputtered with laughter as she pried the hood apart and pushed it back down into its proper position. House grinned wickedly, noting how absolutely cute she looked with her flushed cheeks and messy hair.

Point well taken. Cameron dropped her line of questioning and snuggled against him, choosing to just enjoy what they were sharing at the moment. Maybe not knowing where they were headed would make the journey all the more exciting.

Cameron trailed a finger along the cheesy bottom of the nearly empty pan of macaroni and offered it to House, who eagerly licked it clean. She closed her eyes for a split second, allowing a girlish thrill to pass through her body, the twinge making her stomach tingle.

She lunged suddenly towards him, hugging him fiercely, as if to convey all of the emotion he wouldn't allow her to speak. House was at first caught off guard by the intensity of her embrace, but he wrapped his arms around her and pressed his lips to her cheek. Her message had been received.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: Okay, so this is nothing but fluff, but I hope you all enjoy. The plot will advance a bit in the next chapter, but for now I just wanted some happy House/Cameron moments! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing.

And so it began. She began staying at his place regularly, retreating to hers occasionally when she thought he could use some "alone time" (Cameron had a tendency to speak in relationship clichés, a trait he found endearing and amusing.) On the evenings when they parted ways after work, he always anticipated a refreshing night of having his home to himself. He reveled at the thought of a quiet house, the toilet seat in the up position, ESPN blaring on the TV (she would patiently watch SportsCenter when he let the TV linger there, but the pained expression on her face made it impossible for him to enjoy it.)

But her absence led him to a slightly unsettling discovery. He found that those evenings when she "gave him some space" (another one of her clichés) seemed long and colorless. His apartment was too quiet, ESPN wasn't all that entertaining…even his precious stash of junk food (he allowed her to believe she had weaned him off of it) didn't taste as good. 

This was one of those "Cameronless" days. They had gone their separate ways after work, where they were still keeping their relationship a secret. Her dirty, half-neglected apartment was driving her crazy, and she was headed home for a night of cleaning. She planned to reward herself with a glass of wine and a long bath in her clean tub when she had completed the work.

After several hours of dusting, vacuuming, polishing, and scrubbing, Cameron was finally satisfied with the state of her apartment. She had just slipped off her silky robe and lowered her tired body into the tub when she heard a knock at her door. She knew, from the distinct sound of wood on wood, exactly who would be standing on the other side. Half-annoyed, half-elated, she hoisted herself from the tub and threw on her robe. She made a dripping path to the door, her bare, wet feet leaving sodden footprints across the freshly-vacuumed carpet.

"What's up?" she asked, smiling slightly at the gruff presence in her doorway.

"Just in the neighborhood…"

"It's almost 11…a little late for 'just in the neighborhood'."

"There was nothing good on TV. I was bored."

"I thought you needed a night off," she said, flattered that he had chosen to come and see her.

"Well, yeah. I guess…" he fumbled. He lowered his head, eyes averted, and repeated gruffly, "I was bored."

"So you're saying…you missed me?" she asked with a gleam in her eyes, knowing full well that he did.

"Don't push it," he warned, glaring at her while at the same time trying to keep his lips from curling upward into a smile.

"Well, come on in," she said, opening her door wider to allow him entrance. He walked slowly into the apartment, taking in the décor. He'd only been here a couple of times, and he had never really gotten past the front door. It was decidedly feminine, but not overtly so. Very Allison Cameron.

"You look confused…" she said, rather confused herself. House was peering past her as if looking for something.

"I was just trying to figure out where you've stashed the collection of porcelain kitties."

"I do not collect porcelain kitties!" she protested, giving him a light smack on the arm.

"No unicorn figurines? No rainbows and moonbeams? This is so unexpected," he mocked.

"Please" she snorted. "I was the little girl who dissected frogs and memorized the periodic table. I've never been the kittens-and-unicorns type." He was mesmerized for a second as an image flashed before him—a dark haired little girl, face too serious, glasses slipping down her nose as she peered into a microscope.

"So, what do you want to do?" she continued. "I was just about to take a bath…"

"Sounds good to me." Cameron rolled her eyes, although the idea of him joining her was actually pretty tempting...

"You can watch TV, read something from my bookshelf, look through my drawers, try to find my diary…oh, please," she teased at the look of surprise that played across House's face. "Like you wouldn't do it anyway. I might as well give you permission." He smiled and nodded. She definitely had him there.

"I'll be in the bathroom if you need me. Have fun," she said over her shoulder as she intentionally let her robe drop before entering the bathroom. House whistled his appreciation.

When he heard the water running, he began circling the spotless apartment. He trailed a finger along the books on her shelf, pausing to thumb through a family photo album. Happy, dark-haired people smiled out from the pages, captured at a variety of milestone events—graduations, baby showers, weddings. He closed the book and tiptoed into the bathroom. She had generously left the door cracked, certain that he would want to join her.

When she heard the thump of his cane on the tile floor, she opened her eyes and gazed up at him from the tub.

"Hey," she said lazily, muscles loose and relaxed from the steaming water. House didn't respond immediately, too busy cataloging her dizzying array of beauty products. Delicate little bottles cluttered the shelves. Creams, lotions, sprays, gels…her bathroom was better stocked than a cosmetics counter.

"Hydro-surge facial moisturizer?" he read from one of the bottles. "Wrinkle-reducing serum? What do you do with all this crap?" he asked incredulously. "If you truly use all this, it's a wonder you have any skin left on your face. Some of this stuff looks harsh."

"I don't use it all at once," she laughed. "Don't pick on me. It's my one girly indulgence."

"You don't even need half of this stuff. You're too young to worry about wrinkles."

"Working with you is reason enough to start worrying about wrinkles," she chided. House took a seat on the edge of the tub and traced a finger along her cheek, wiping away a droplet of water.

"If that stuff is designed to keep you beautiful, it's definitely working," he said with uncharacteristic softness. Cameron flushed and let the rare compliment wash over her.

"That's sweet of you to say," she answered, and ducked her head under the surface. House's breath caught as she emerged, water streaming from her hair. The heat was serving to give her skin a delicate, pink flush. Her eye make-up hadn't been scrubbed entirely away. Her mascara had drifted downward, the smudges beneath her eyes creating a dark, smoky effect that House found intoxicating.

Cameron shifted and pushed herself up to exit the tub. "Hey, hand me my towel," she asked, and House reached for it. But instead of handing it to her, he held it out and motioned for her to step towards him. As she did, he wrapped the towel around her in an embrace and rubbed gently to dry her body. He reached for another towel and used it to dry her hair, rubbing a bit more vigorously. When he stopped, she grinned up at him and rewarded him with an affectionate kiss on the lips.

"You know, it just occurred to me…I haven't given you a tour of my place," Cameron said, the slyness of her voice indicating that she had something in mind.

"No, you haven't," he replied, his lips against her damp hair. "You've been a very bad hostess."

"Well, I'll have to correct that," she said with a wink. "Follow me. The tour starts in the bedroom." He followed her eagerly, thinking to himself that a night with Cameron beat pizza, beer, and sports on TV any day of the week.

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House woke up in the middle of the night in a sweat. It took him a moment to remember where he was. A small smile grazed his lips as he remembered that he was lying in Cameron's bed. And then he realized he was sweltering beneath her enormously fluffy down comforter.

He kicked frantically and batted the bedding away until he had finally freed himself. He sighed blissfully as the cool air hit his sweaty skin. He glanced over to make sure that Cameron hadn't been smothered by her gigantic blanket, and was alarmed when he didn't see her. Where was she?

House patted around the bed until he could faintly make out the outline of a skinny leg beneath the pile of fluff. He realized that she hadn't disappeared, she was simply buried underneath the comforter. He shoved the covers to the ground, and finally her sleeping form was revealed. She shivered slightly at the loss of warmth, still half asleep.

"I'm cold," she whimpered softly.

"I'll fix that," House replied, and pulled her body close to his. She smiled slightly, her eyes flickering for a moment and then closing again.

"Thanks," she whispered groggily as he wrapped his arms around her. She took hold of his hand, bringing it to her lips for a quick, sweet kiss. He smiled against the back of her head and felt his heavy eyelids begin to droop. Until she shivered again.

"Oh, fine," House grumbled. "Have it your way." He picked the comforter up from off of the floor and covered her with it again. He snuggled against the fluffy bundle of comforter plus Cameron and soon drifted into a peaceful sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: First of all, let me say that I'm so sorry for taking so long to update…November was a really busy month for me. Also, be warned that after the fluff comes the angst…please read and review! I appreciate each and every review so much! Hope you enjoy!

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"Do you want to leave first, or should I go?" House asked as he and Cameron readied themselves for work.

"It makes more sense for me to show up before you, because…well, it's you. You're always late," she replied as she buttoned her blouse.

"True," House conceded, and poured the cold remains of his coffee down the sink.

"But then again, I don't know if I should trust you alone in my apartment."

"Smart girl," he replied with a trace of a smile.

This was part of their routine. After spending the night together, the couple always arrived at work separately, driving their own cars, one lagging a few minutes behind the other. This carefully orchestrated plan ensured that their secret was safe at work. And it was starting to get on Cameron's nerves.

She was tired of the hiding and the secrecy. The silly ruse, the pretense that they were nothing more than coworkers, was wearing thin. Cameron found it slightly hurtful that he was unwilling to make his feelings for her known, even though she knew the consequence of revealing their relationship would be relentless teasing by their colleagues. She was willing to deal with that…so why wasn't he?

On the other hand, she was so damned happy just being with him that she didn't want to press the issue. She was lucky enough to have this complicated, brilliant, beautiful man in her life (and in her bed) that she willed herself to go along with the games. If it meant having to drive separate cars and refrain from touching him at work, it was worth it…wasn't it?

"Would it be such a big deal if we came in together?" she ventured timidly, knowing before the words even left her mouth that she would be shot down.

"Yeah, it would be. I'm not up for an endless stream of smart-ass comments and whispering behind my back, compliments of your two buddies."

"You're House…since when do you care what people say about you?" Cameron asked, a little bolder this time. "I'm willing to put up with the teasing."

"Well, I'm not," he snapped. "Now are you ready to go, or do you want me to leave first?"

"I just don't see this relationship going anywhere if you're unwilling to acknowledge it publicly," she shot back, an angry frown playing across her face.

"Cameron," House sighed, softening his tone, "I enjoy what we have. I really do. But what do you want me to do? Hold your hand in the hallway? Have you sit on my lap during the differential? It's not going to happen."

"Fine," she replied icily. "I'm going." She grabbed her bag and stalked angrily past him. She turned back for a quick moment to spit, "I'll see you at work…unless you don't want me making eye contact with you. Someone might suspect something."

She slammed the door and left him shaking his head, wondering how the morning had turned sour so quickly.

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After a particularly lifeless session at the white board (Cameron was barely speaking, and when she did, it was to give a one or two-word answer to a direct question), House sent his team in different directions to obtain some more information about their patient.

"Okay, so Foreman has labs, Chase can search the house, and Cameron…" her head snapped up, her eyes beaming anger in his direction, "I need to speak with you." Her angry expression turned to one of surprise as she nodded. Foreman and Chase exchanged a brief, confused glance and then left the office to take care of their assignments.

"You wanted to see me?" Cameron asked in a clipped tone as she slowly approached House. "You know, if people see us alone, talking, they might get the wrong idea…"

"I get it," he said, cutting her sarcasm short. "I just wanted to let you know that if you'd like to apologize to me for being bitchy this morning, I'm ready." Cameron's mouth dropped at his audacity.

"What?!" she exclaimed. "I'm bitchy?! You're the one…" she stopped short when she saw the mischievous twinkle in his clear blue eyes. He was kidding, and this was his twisted attempt at trying to resolve their argument.

"Fine. I'm sorry," she said.

"I accept. Now, was that so hard?"

"I'm sorry that you're so pathetically immature that you'd rather sneak around like a teenager than admit you have a girlfriend."

She braced herself for his inevitable insulting retort, but it didn't come right away. He was still reeling at her use of the term "girlfriend." He supposed that was what she was to him, but the concept was foreign. It had been light years since his last serious relationship.

"Whoa…girlfriend? I thought we were just sleeping together," he finally replied, a lame attempt at humor. He flinched a bit as the words left his mouth, unsure of how she would react, afraid that he might have hit a nerve. Luckily, she knew him well enough to know that he really didn't mean it.

"We might not be anymore if you keep this up," she retorted, half-kidding, half-serious. House surrendered the joking, feeling that they were dancing on some dangerous precipice between making up and starting another argument. He glanced around to make sure they were still alone in the office. When he saw that it was clear, he held out his hand to her, and she took it, stepping closer to him.

"So we're done with the arguing?" she asked, linking her arms around his neck. 

"For now," he said, leaning into her for a quick kiss. "Let's continue it after work and go all out…throwing dishes, screaming, cussing…"

"It'll lead to some hot make-up sex," Cameron offered, reading his mind. House felt his body responding to the mention of sex coming from her beautiful lips.

"Dirty little girl," he murmured against her mouth as he kissed her again. She stood on her tiptoes and prepared to deepen the kiss when a sudden sound made their blood run cold. They separated immediately and whirled around to come face to face with Foreman, who was wearing a lascivious grin.

"Oh, great," House muttered, irritated to his very core.

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The rest of the day was a nightmare for House. The whispering, the stares…he was certain that he was now the subject of the hospital rumor mill, and he was furious. Furious mainly with himself, for allowing himself to slip and be affectionate with Cameron in the office. Furious also with Foreman and his gigantic mouth. Even a bit annoyed with Cameron…if she hadn't started that argument this morning, he wouldn't have had any need to make up with her, which means they never would have been caught in the first place.

After doing her best to avoid House for a few hours, Cameron finally approached him at the end of the day. She gingerly walked up to his desk, where he was enthralled with a noisy, beeping computer game.

"Hey," she said softly, "are you ready to head home?"

"Nope. I've got two more levels to go," House replied shortly, his face illuminated by the glow of the computer screen.

"Well, I'm going to call it a night," she continued quietly. "You…you want me to go to your place, or should I stay at mine tonight?" She held her breath in anticipation of a negative response.

"Whatever you want," he said indifferently, obviously more interested in his game than in her.

"Why don't I go to your place, start dinner, and we can eat when you get home?" she asked hesitantly, fully expecting that he would tell her not to bother.

"Sounds good," he answered, still not taking his eyes from his game.

"Okay," she said, and gazed at him a minute, hoping he would give her a smile, a nod, anything to show that he wasn't angry. After a long moment, it became clear to her that he wasn't going to acknowledge her, and she left.

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Nearly three hours later, she heard the unmistakable click of his keys in the door. Cameron began pulling foil off of the dinner she had prepared, reheated, and reheated again, hoping that the meal hadn't been ruined.

"Hey," she said as he entered, "dinner's ready." She offered him a smile as she dished the food onto the plates.

"I already ate," he replied. "Wilson and I ordered take-out. You go ahead and eat without me." Cameron looked at him in disbelief.

"Are you kidding?" she asked, hurt seeping into her voice.

"No," he answered, avoiding her hurt, puppy-dog eyes. He limped into the living room and flipped on the TV, settling on the couch.

"I told you I was making dinner for us, and you said that sounded good!" she exclaimed angrily. "If you wanted to eat with Wilson, couldn't you have at least called and told me to forget about holding dinner for you?"

"Sorry…I forgot," he said absently, flipping channels. Cameron stomped over to him and grabbed the remote from his hand, positioning herself right in front of his face so he would be forced to look at her.

"Don't act like this isn't about what happened today at work. You're punishing me because people found out about us. It's not my fault!" she cried, hoping for a reaction of any kind out of him.

"Did I say it was?" he asked. "Cameron, I had a bad day, I'm in a crappy mood…just let it go," he urged.

"No," she responded hotly. "You know what? I'm glad. I'm actually happy that we got caught. I was sick of being treated like…like someone you were ashamed of. It hurt, House. It hurt that you turned what we have into some dirty little secret that no one could know about."

"That's not what it was, and you know it," he replied. "You know I keep my private life private, Cameron. I'm not an open book, I don't wear my heart on my sleeve. That's you. Stop trying to turn me into you," he concluded, and was met with a tearful stare.

"I'm not trying to fix you, or change you, or make you more like me!" she yelled, sinking to her knees in front of him. "I just wanted to be someone you could be proud of, someone you wouldn't mind introducing as your girlfriend. Or at least someone you wouldn't mind sharing a meal in the cafeteria with!" He was clearly uncomfortable with her outpouring of emotion, but the dam had burst and she couldn't hold back the flood.

"House, I just wanted you to be proud of me, because…I'm proud of you!" she cried, taking her face in her hands. "I want everyone to know that I'm with you! That I love you!"

Cameron's stomach flip-flopped as those last words escaped her mouth. She felt his body stiffen slightly with surprise at what she had said. But along with the slightly nauseous fluttering, there was also a sensation of freedom coursing through her veins. It was such a release to express what she had pent up for so long…so she said it again.

"I love you," she whispered, bringing her face closer to his. "I love you," she repeated, pressing her lips against his mouth, which remained firm and unresponsive. "I love you," she insisted, a little more desperately this time, attempting another kiss. Oh God…he wasn't kissing her back.

"I love you," she sobbed, one last time, and looked directly into his eyes. He stared blankly at her for a second, and then turned his face away from hers.

"Why are you doing this?" she whispered. Her tears were dripping down her face and her nose had started running, but she made no attempt to wipe them away. He shook his head slightly, still unable to look at her.

His silence told her everything she needed to know. Cameron jumped to her feet and ran to the door. House flinched as the door slammed for the second time that day.


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: I'm so sorry my updates have been taking so long! The holidays definitely caused a delay, but here's the next chapter. I really hope you enjoy it…it's not quite as angsty as the last one (I love House and Cameron too much to let them suffer for long!) I appreciate each and every review, and I thank you all so much for taking the time to comment.

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Cameron stepped through her front door in a daze and threw her keys and purse onto the floor. Blinded by tears and hurt, she crawled into bed without even bothering to take off her shoes. Strands of her dark hair were plastered to her tear-stained face, but she couldn't be bothered to brush them away. Her sobbing finally slowed as exhaustion set in, her shuddering breaths becoming slow and measured as sleep mercifully took over.

For the first time since it had happened, she dreamed about the attack.

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"We seem to be one french-fry short of a Happy Meal," House said lightly the next day at work, referring to the empty seat at the table. 

"Is Cameron sick?" Foreman asked with concern. 

"How should I know?" House asked casually, his back turned to the team minus one as he began writing on the board.

"Well, you…" Chase began, but stopped abruptly as House spun around and gave him a deadly glare. 

"Sick patient, people. For those of you who showed up today, we've got a lot of ground to cover if we want this guy to get better. Okay, fever, abdominal pain, fatigue…" House rattled off the symptoms, scribbling them on the board as he spoke. Chase and Foreman exchanged a look, wondering what the explanation was for Cameron's absence and House's indifference. 

"Okay then. Go forth and do your jobs…and don't forget to thank Cameron for sticking you with her share of the work." As Foreman and Chase exited the office, Cuddy entered. 

"Cameron just called me," she said quietly. "She asked if she could take a couple of days off. Personal leave."

"Fine with me if it's okay with you," House replied shortly, his attention focused on stirring his cup of coffee. 

"What did you do to her?" Cuddy asked, a protective tone invading her voice.

"Nothing," came the terse reply. "Did it ever occur to anyone that she might actually be sick?" He moved to his desk and flopped down, crossing his arms in front of him.

"She seemed fine yesterday," Cuddy retorted, taking a few steps toward him, trying to read his expression. She was certain that he had something to do with Cameron's absence, especially since Cameron had chosen to call her instead of reporting directly to House.

"Well, maybe she's faking sick. I thought all you girls like to milk the 'female problems' for a day off every now and then." House noted with satisfaction the look of distaste that passed instantly over Cuddy's face.

"You're a pig. And you're probably the direct cause of Cameron needing time off from work. Whatever you did, fix it." House rolled his eyes and waved her away, but Cuddy leaned in and continued. "You do remember what I told you about Cameron, don't you?" she asked.

"That if she ever hopes to follow in your footsteps and become dean of medicine, she'll need implants?" he joked, shooting a pointed glance at Cuddy's ever-prominent cleavage. She shook her head at his obnoxious comment and corrected him, her reply wiping the smirk from his face.

"I told you to bear in mind that Cameron's probably the only female who can tolerate you. Is that really something you want to jeopardize?" At that, Cuddy turned and walked away, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

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As the knocking on her front door became more persistent, Cameron rushed to the bathroom to try to make herself more presentable for her visitor. She splashed water on her face to dissolve the salty stains left by her tears. The blotchiness remained, but she didn't have time to remedy it before answering the door. She blotted her face with a towel and smoothed her hair, and made her way to open the door. Wilson stood awkwardly on the other side.

"Hey!" she said, her tone too bright, her smile too wide. "What's up?" Intuitive Wilson picked up instantly on the slight waver behind her cheery greeting, the lingering traces of tears and hurt in her bloodshot eyes.

"We missed you at work today. Just wanted to check and see if you're feeling okay," he said, eyeing her response carefully. He could see the façade begin to crumble a bit more, a trembling of her lips betraying her.

"No, I'm fine. I mean, I'm fine now, but I was feeling pretty bad this morning. I had, um, a migraine, and I could barely…" her voice caught and her eyes began to well up. His sympathetic gaze pushed her over the edge, and she shuddered and allowed the tears to spill over.

"Cameron, come here," Wilson said gently, holding his arms out to the pathetic, sobbing mess before him. She went willingly, and buried her head on his chest as his arms wrapped around her. He held her to him and let her cry for a few long moments, before she finally sniffled and pulled away.

"Oh, God…I'm sorry," she said, eyeing the wet spots and smudges left behind by tears and day-old mascara. He glanced down at his soiled shirt and shrugged.

"It's nothing. Now, tell me what happened." His inquiry brought forth a spring of fresh tears.

"It was awful," she hiccupped. "I'm so unbelievably stupid!"

"You are not," he said firmly, offering her a handkerchief from his pocket. "Chances are, he was the one being stupid." Cameron gave him a small smile of appreciation.

"No, I was stupid. I knew he probably wasn't ready to hear it, but…I told him I love him." Wilson gave her a small smile of his own.

"That's not stupid, Cameron," he said. "If that's truly how you feel, that's just honesty."

"I know, but I shouldn't have expected a positive reaction," she said with a slight sigh. "It's House, right?"

"I'm going to say it again…you weren't being stupid," he insisted. "But the stupid thing to do is to let him get away with that reaction just because he's House. You know he feels the same way you do. Don't let him chicken out. Confront him with it."

"I don't think I can put myself through another conversation like that," she whispered.

"Cameron," Wilson said softly, tipping her chin up with his finger, "you don't give yourself enough credit. You'd be surprised at what you're capable of…you just need to be willing to take the chance." Cameron gave him a grateful smile. Wilson patted her shoulder and left. He had one more stop to make before heading home for the night.

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"So she tells you she loves you, and you're…what? Angry? Indifferent?" Wilson demanded. He grabbed Houses's glass of scotch from his hands, slamming it down on the coffee table. The ice rattled in the glass, the liquor sloshed over the sides, and finally Wilson had House's complete attention.

"Cameron's just a kid with a crush," House said with disdain. "She doesn't know what she's getting herself into."

"She's far from a kid, and she's been subjected to your particular brand of crazy on a daily basis, so I'd say she's completely aware of what she's signing on for. And the thing is…" Wilson paused and took a breath, "…she still wants you."

House exhaled, a long, gusty sigh that weighed heavy with doubt and insecurity. He was suddenly very tired. Wilson pressed on, determined that his friend would hear him out.

"You let this amazing girl…woman…slip through your fingers, and you don't want to fight to get her back? To make things right? She's beautiful, she's smart, she's sweet and loving…I don't understand you."

"Wow, Jimmy, it kind of sounds like you're the one in love with her," came House's sarcastic response.

"Yeah, it does, doesn't it?" Wilson replied quietly, his tone matter-of-fact, his hands on his hips. The intensity in his deep brown eyes startled House, and realization sunk in.

"You love her," House said simply, dazed at his friend's revelation. It wasn't often that he was caught off guard.

"Yeah," Wilson replied quietly, turning his head to avoid House's eyes.

"Why…what stopped you from going for her?" House asked. "And don't say because you were married, because we all know…"

"Yeah, I'd appreciate it if you could refrain from throwing my failed marriages in my face right now," Wilson interrupted heatedly. House conceded and fell silent, allowing Wilson to continue.

"Do you even have to ask? It was clear to me that you were in love with her from the very beginning. As soon as she started working for you. And the feeling was obviously mutual."

"Oh, please," House snorted with a roll of his eyes. "I'm not saying that we don't have something now," he confessed, much to Wilson's surprise, "but I haven't been pining for her from day one like some lovesick, crippled puppy."

"Maybe you're not as good at hiding your feelings as you think you are, House," Wilson said quietly. "Especially not from the people who know you best." House rolled his eyes again at the suggestion. Wilson grew irritated at the rude gesture, and his next words were delivered in a near-shout.

"Do you know what this does to me, watching you blow it with her, watching you sabotage a chance for happiness? It's such a waste, House." House glared at Wilson, challenging him with his eyes to continue. Wilson was angry and up for that challenge.

"I wanted her for myself, but I was convinced that it would be selfish of me to pursue her. That the two of you were meant to find your way to each other. That once you did, it would be this amazing relationship that would pull you out of this dark place you've created for yourself. And in turn, you would help her become a little tougher, a little wiser, less naïve. But when she's calling in sick because can't stop crying long enough to pull herself together for work, I've got to wonder…"

"Wonder what?" House asked. Smarmy was his goal, but the only tone he could manage was sadness.

"Are you good for her, or is it best that you just leave her alone?" Wilson concluded. The silence following his words was deafening. He walked out, leaving House to consider his options.

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Cameron stared at herself in her bathroom mirror until her face didn't make sense to her anymore. Those eyes were too sad and defeated to belong to her. The mouth was turned downward in a perpetual frown, the forehead creased with lines of anxiety and regret. She shook her head—this pitiful creature could not be her.

The real Cameron was a fighter. She was brave and unyielding in her quest for answers. She put herself on the line, consequences be damned. The real Cameron didn't let House get away with avoidance—she scrapped and fought for a dinner date, just for a fleeting chance to find out how he felt about her. She point-blank asked him if he liked her, when the uncertainty became too much to bear and she just had to know.

Cameron scrubbed her face and brushed her teeth. She tugged a brush through her matted hair and pulled it into a thick ponytail. She straightened her clothes and gave a small smile as she saw the real Cameron emerge in the mirror. She was happy to have her back.

Cameron grabbed her keys and purse from the floor where she had thrown them a day earlier. Wilson's words were resonating in her head, urging her to make House own up to his feelings. She strode towards the door with renewed confidence, already mentally rehearsing what she would say when she arrived at his place.

She pulled it open and immediately stumbled backwards in shock. There stood House, his hand raised, poised to knock on her door.


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note: Hello again, everyone! Thank you all so much for your reviews. They're so thoughtful and encouraging, and it means so much to me that you all take time to comment. I think this is the last official chapter of this fic, but I've got an epilogue already in the works. Thanks again for reading and reviewing, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

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"Hey," she said, clearly shocked to see House standing before her. "I was actually just on my way to your place," followed softly.

She took a few backwards steps into her apartment, her eyes intently on him as he advanced. Still on wobbly footing, her heel caught in her carpet and her ankle twisted. House extended a hand to help steady her, which she accepted. Their hands lingered for a long moment, the electricity between them undeniable as they touched. Cameron pulled her hand away slowly. For a brief moment, she forgot all about being upset with him. But that moment quickly passed.

"So what the hell was your problem yesterday?" Cameron demanded angrily. House was taken aback, surprised that she would jump straight into this. He had half-expected her to sit him down for a weepy heart-to-heart, but he should have known that he might have had to face an assertive Cameron.

"Wow…no 'come in, make yourself comfortable'? No offering me a glass of lemonade? Miss Manners would be very disappointed…"

"Enough with the sarcasm!" she cut him off mid-sentence, and he wisely closed his mouth. "I'm not going to let you joke your way out of this. I want to know what made you so hostile yesterday. What happened?"

"Honestly?" he stalled, knowing that he had no decent explanation to offer her.

"Of course, honestly."

"I was having a bad day." Cameron raised an eyebrow at his lame response, her expression skeptical.

"This is me being honest. It was a bad day, I was in a bad mood, and I didn't handle things very well. It happens. I'm a grumpy old man, and you know that. If you want this thing…this…relationship," the word pained him, "to stick for a while, you're going to have to deal with me not being a ray of sunshine every day. I can be bitter, I can be cold…but that's me, and it's probably not going to change." Cameron opened her mouth to interject, but House wasn't finished. He lightened his tone as he continued, issuing her a gentle warning.

"If you're going into this expecting that you're going to soften me, somehow turn me into a warm and cuddly type of guy…" he trailed off, but her insistent gaze forced him to finish the thought. "…you're going to be disappointed. I can promise you that."

House dropped his head for a moment, bracing himself for a trademark, wounded Cameron reaction, complete with trembling lip and teary eyes. When he finally raised his head to meet her gaze, he was surprised to see no trace of weepiness. Instead, she looked downright angry.

"I'm not completely naïve, you know." She folded her arms in front of her and glared up at him. "I understand that we'll have our ups and downs. You have your moods; I have mine. We can deal with them as they come up. We'll argue them out, or ignore each other for a while, or pout in a corner until they pass."

"Then why weren't you content to leave me alone for a while to, admittedly, act like a big baby?" House demanded.

"Because it wasn't so much a bad mood as a…rejection. A rejection of me. Of the idea of the two of us, of us being a couple."

"That's…that's not what it was." House fidgeted, knowing that the conversation was heading for an uncomfortably intimate place.

"Of course it was! You didn't want it to be known at work that you were with me. And then I tell you…" she hesitated, not able to bring herself to say the three words again. "I tell you how I feel, and you completely freeze up. I felt so hopeless, like you weren't ever going to think of me in that way."

"I am sorry I made you feel that way. I truly am. But, to borrow a cliché from one of your relationship self-help books…it's not you, it's me."

"Oh, come on," Cameron groaned, rolling her eyes.

"I'm still being honest here. I'm great at reading other people's feelings. A master, actually." Cameron smirked at his self-congratulatory tone, and he continued more seriously.

"The slightest twitch of an eyebrow, and I know instantly that a patient's been cheating on his wife. I can read emotions on people's faces as easily as if they were spelled out in words. And I've come to realize that, although it's a nifty trick, it's also a trade-off. Great with other people's feelings, lousy with my own."

Cameron softened, realizing that she was witnessing a rare moment…Gregory House was actually admitting to a flaw. She reached out a hand to him, and he took it between his, absently playing with her fingers as he began to speak again.

"It's been ages since my last relationship, since I was open with someone. In fact, you were probably still in braces and pigtails…"

"Enough," Cameron warned, sick of the constant jabs about her age. She nearly pulled her hand away, but somehow she couldn't bring herself to do it.

"Fine. But it's been a long time, and it's hard to…it's like training for a marathon. It's an incredible amount of work, and starting from the beginning seems overwhelming. But with enough training…you get there."

"Are you saying…"

"I'd like to start training for the marathon," House said, a euphemism the best he could offer her. "It's a little overwhelming right now," he admitted with a sigh, "but I think that it's something I can build up to over time."

"That's all I needed to hear," Cameron whispered tearfully. She lunged suddenly toward him and embraced him, all of her love for him pulsing through her body and into his. House's breath caught for a moment. He felt it, warm and pure.

He didn't respond with words, but instead brought his lips to meet hers. He silently hoped that his kiss would convey what he couldn't yet bring himself to say.

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They fumbled their way into the bedroom, kissing frantically, as if the day-long separation had been too much to bear. Cameron pulled her top over her head, tossing it to the floor. Her bra was the next to go as she reached behind herself to unsnap it with one hand. She flung it slingshot style at House, who had taken a seat on the bed to watch the show.

"This making up thing isn't such a bad deal," he commented, enjoying his view from the bed as Cameron shimmied out of her jeans. She pranced in only her panties over to her dresser and opened a drawer. She pulled out a thin scrap of lace that took House a second to identify as a strapless bra, and fastened it around herself. House grinned—apparently "dress up" was going to be a part of tonight's activities. Fun.

His grin faded a bit when she made her way to her closet and began rifling through her wardrobe. Did she have something even more exciting in there to model for him? Not unless she'd been shopping since the last time he snooped through her closet. Puzzled, he watched silently as she took a delicate black dress off of its hanger and pulled it quickly over her head.

It was beautiful—a softly shimmering, black satin slip dress with the thinnest spaghetti straps imaginable. It skimmed her figure in all the right places, and the plunging neckline didn't hurt either. She was such a study in contrasts, House observed…pale skin and jet black dress, round rosy cheeks and lean, angular body. He also noticed that she was still busily rummaging in her closet.

"Um, kind of liked it better when you were taking things off," he grumbled. Cameron turned around and smiled, a pair of strappy, high-heeled sandals dangling from her fingers.

"Get up," she said, her eyes dancing. "We're going to your place."

"That's fine with me, but you didn't have to dress up for that. Casa de House does not adhere to a dress code."

"We're not staying there. We're stopping by so you can change. You've got a clean suit and tie, right?" House raised an eyebrow.

"I've got a couple, but I don't enjoy wearing them," he warned.

"Too bad. You're taking me out to dinner. And not just a meal between colleagues. A date." She gave him a wicked wink.

He had to grin as the familiar words washed over him. She was finagling another dinner date out of him. And again, he was going to let her.

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"This tie is choking me," House whined, yanking on it with one hand as the other steered through the streets of Princeton.

"You'll live," Cameron responded, brushing a piece of lint from his shoulder.

"I'm burning up in this jacket," he moaned, fidgeting in his seat beneath stiff layers of buttoned-up, starched fabric. Cameron looked out of her window and rolled her eyes. For all his jokes about her being a child, he was the one acting like a toddler about to throw a tantrum.

"I'm almost on empty…if I stop for gas, can we still make our reservation?" he asked. Cameron checked her watch and nodded, and House pulled into the nearest gas station.

After filling his car, he made his way inside to pay. The register was located inside an impressive convenience store, and House took a minute to poke around the shelves. He grabbed a candy bar and a bag of pretzels (after-dinner snacks) and brought them to the register. As he reached for his wallet, something on the counter caught his eye…there was a cheap plastic vase filled with a few dozen scrawny red roses, $2.50 per stem. He pulled the most attractive of the bunch from its spot in the vase and added the dripping flower to his purchases.

When House was settled in the driver's seat again, he tossed his plastic bag of snacks into the back and thrust the red rose in Cameron's direction.

"Here. The last time we did this, you got a corsage. This isn't as nice, but I figured…"

"Oh, my God. House, that is so sweet!" she exclaimed, taking the somewhat limp rose from him and holding it to her nose, inhaling deeply. "This means so much to me," she whispered as he put the car in drive and pulled away from the gas station. He focused intently on the road, glad to have an excuse to avoid her eyes, undoubtedly full of admiration.

She snapped the stem of the rose, shortening the flower so that she could tuck it behind her ear. House glanced over at her for a second and was nearly mesmerized by the sight of the bright red bloom against her tumbling, deep brown waves.

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It wasn't the same table, but one nearly identical. They were enjoying their selections from Café Spellato's delicious menu as well as a pleasant ebb and flow of small talk. It wasn't difficult or forced this time around…just an effortless back-and-forth of tales from med school, friendly debates on music and movies, even a bit of hospital gossip. House was surprised to find that he wasn't at all bored. He truly enjoyed this mindless chatter with Cameron. He could actually listen to her talk all night, he realized.

Cameron pushed her dessert away after two bites, completely stuffed. Emboldened by a couple glasses of wine, she decided to pursue a familiar line of questioning.

"I want to try something again," she said, her voice low and serious. House furrowed his brows and nodded, prompting her to continue.

"The first time we did this, it didn't turn out so well," she said, and House could feel sweat beading on his forehead. He knew where she was headed.

"But I'm a glutton for punishment, so…I'll say it." She took a deep breath. "I want to know how you feel…about me." She braced herself for his response, glad that she had the slight buzz from the wine to soften the blow.

House stared at her in the candlelight. She was glowing and beautiful, and he at first he couldn't speak. The pause was too lengthy, and Cameron shifted uncomfortably in her seat. House cleared his throat and found his voice.

"You are a walking contradiction." She smiled at his words, and that beautiful smile encouraged him to continue. "I've never quite been able to figure you out, Cameron. I've picked up clues here and there, but I'm still not sure what makes you tick. But what I do know is that you're the most persistent, stubborn, unyielding person I know, always fighting tooth and nail for what she thinks is right."

Cameron's face fell. She guessed there was a compliment in there somewhere, but his words weren't exactly the romantic declaration she had been hoping for. House gazed at her as she stared down at the table. The outline of her dark lashes against her pale cheeks was enchanting. He cleared his throat, and she looked up to meet his eyes.

"That's why I'm glad you decided we were right for each other. I know you'll always fight for us. And I think we've got something worth fighting for."

It was all he could say, but it was more than enough. Cameron reached for his hand across the table and brought it to her lips.


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Note: Well, this is it. The epilogue to "Safety." Thank you all so much for reading. I feel like this is a good place to stop, but I see a possible sequel in the future! Thanks again for all the kind comments, helpful pointers, and words of encouragement. Hope you enjoy!

Epilogue:

He never asked, not officially. It just happened. She started leaving her belongings at his place. At first, it was just a few necessities—shampoo, a toothbrush, clean underwear. A month passed, and then another, and the collection of Cameron's stuff started to grow. In addition to the essentials, there was a stack of CDs and books, a couple of outfits for work, and her nearly new coffee maker. The stretches of time she spent as his place grew longer and longer, and finally she simply packed up the rest of her apartment and gave notice to her landlord. Somewhere, in the merging of kitchen appliances and clearing of closet space, she became Allison, and he became Greg.

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He never asked, not officially. They were sitting on the sofa with a gigantic bowl of popcorn between them, watching a movie. They dipped their hands into the bowl absently, bringing handfuls of the buttery, salty snack to their mouths and laughing at the ridiculous comedy on the screen. He happened to glance over at her, her hair in a messy ponytail, her body soft and warm in girly pajamas, and Greg felt that this was as close to heaven as he was ever going to get.

He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a small box. He casually tossed it to her, and she jumped in surprise as it hit her lap. Her eyes welled with tears as she opened it, and he was half-afraid, half-excited as he waited for her next move. She slid the diamond onto her slim finger and kissed him, their mouths slippery with melted butter.

"Love you, Allison," he said gruffly, his eyes on the screen as he picked up the remote to rewind the part of the movie they had just missed.

"Love you too, Greg," she whispered and snuggled against him, admiring the gleam of her engagement ring out of the corner of her eye.

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She never asked, not officially. They were in the bathroom together, fighting for space around the sink as they got ready for work. She popped a birth control pill into her mouth and swallowed, surveying the empty pack.

"That's my last pill," she commented casually, tossing the foil sheet into the wastebasket. House nodded at her through a mouthful of toothpaste, brushing his teeth vigorously.

"I haven't called in a refill yet," she continued, keeping an eye on him to gauge his response. He took a sip of water straight from the tap, swishing and spitting out a mouthful of toothpaste.

"So call it in today,' he said, wiping his mouth. "I can pick it up from the pharmacy on my way home."

"Actually," she began timidly, "I was thinking I…wouldn't get it refilled." She fixed her gaze upon him, wondering if he understood what she was getting at. His eyes widened, his expression slightly stunned.

"Would that…be okay? If I went off the pill?" she asked softly, turning to face him. He looked a bit dazed, but managed to nod.

"Yeah," he said slowly. "Yeah…I think that would be okay." Did Allison detect the briefest glimmer of excitement passing through his blue eyes? She didn't push it, just gave him a kiss on the cheek and left him alone with his thoughts as he finished getting ready for work.

Three months later, he was crunching a bowl of cereal at the kitchen table when she approached him, a huge smile on her face and a positive pregnancy test in her hand. A million emotions raced through him at once, but sheer happiness was the one that won out. He jumped up to hug her, his movement knocking his bowl and sending a river of milk cascading over the side of the table and onto the floor.

So much for safety. Had Greg House sat down and carefully mapped out his future, he was certain that a romance with a young colleague, a wife, and a baby would not have been in his plans. Best to accept life as it comes hurtling at you, he deduced, and dropped a kiss onto Allison's stomach.


End file.
